


In Sickness and in Health

by bar2d2s



Category: The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3923755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bar2d2s/pseuds/bar2d2s
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though mostly sickness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness and in Health

Axel can fly. He can soar around the heads of the tallest men in a room. He hates being on the ground. Because Axel is just barely over five feet tall. His shoes, and the gel in his hair, straighten him up to 5'6". And a  _half_.

Mark laughs at him a lot.

Mark is tall and skinny, like a scarecrow. But he’s not really skinny, he’s wirey. He’s got muscle where it counts. Evan is shorter, but wider. Broad, with muscle to spare. Len is bigger than the both of them, over six feet. A wall of a man in a blue parka.

Axel shivered at the thought of him.

He wanted to be big. Tall. Wide. So he drank milk and ate lots of red meat and did pullups on the bar in the doorway of the kitchen…but nothing changed.

And then everything changed.

Owen was as tall as Mark, with wide shoulders, like Evan. He didn’t do pullups or crunches, and he could eat an entire pizza all by himself.

“I’ve got a wicked metabolism.” He’d say with a grin and a shrug, stuffing the rest of his sandwich or an entire tangerine into his mouth. Owen was always eating, like a six foot tall, cut, sexy vaccum cleaner. Axel hated him.

He hated how easily Owen got along with Mark and Evan. Hated how much more Len seemed to like him than he did Axel. Owen, they treated like a Rogue. Axel was the mascot. The kid sidekick.

He’d show them.

That night, Owen got food poisoning from a bad frozen lasagna. It hadn’t even been Axel’s fault. He’d been planning on messing with the beer, so they  _all_  got sick. But watching Owen lay on the couch, motionless aside from the times he’d suddenly sit up to puke into a plastic pail…it felt bad. It felt really bad.

When the rankness of the sick and the general gloomy mood got to be too much for them, the older men bunk off to a bar, leaving Axel and Owen alone. It takes him a few minutes to work up the nerve but eventually, Axel skids through the air towards Owen’s self-made sickbed. He glared up at Axel with dull, bleary eyes as the blonde leaned over him.

“What?”

His voice was a harsh croak, wet-sounding. Axel put the heel of his palm to Owen’s forehead.

“You’re not hot.” That was a lie. “You’re just gonna be puking until you get it all out of your system. Dude, you ate an  _entire lasagna_  that went bad a year ago.” His tone was accusing, and more than a little amused. Owen groaned, and Axel twitched in midair.

“It was  _frozen_.” He moaned, and Axel shivered. “Frozen shit is supposed to keep. How was I supposed to know it thawed and refroze at one point? I’m not fuckin’ Nostradamus." 

The stink from the puke bucket was getting unbearable, so Axel grabbed it and dumped it down the toilet, then hosed it out in the shower. He started as something hit the bathroom door, but it was just Owen. It was just Owen, standing in the doorway in boxers and a wifebeater like an American Eagle model at a trailer trash-themed shoot. He licked his bottom lip.

And then he was on his knees, head practically buried in the toilet bowl as yet another round of spoiled food left him.

Axel didn’t know what to do, other than sit on the edge of the bathtub and pet his back, saying stuff like, "There’s no blood in that, which is good. It would suck if you were pukin’ blood.” and “If we pointed you out a window, that would be the worst day for any dude caught below you.” He flushed the toilet occasionally, and Owen made pathetic, whimpery noises while resting his head against the rim. An hour later, and it seemed like he was completely empty.

Owen was a mess. His entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat, and he was shivering. He kept shaking his head, trying to clear the ringing in his ears. A quick forehead-touch revealed he was burning up. “Get in the shower.” Owen’s gaze fixed on him somewhat unsteadily. “You’re sick, and too hot. You need to get some cold water on you.” He twisted on the shower for emphasis, and Owen nodded, shakily standing up. Just as Axel was about to stand, to vacate the room, Owen’s top was off and, “Goddamn.” He’d hissed it. Low. It was practically a cough. But Owen’s shoulders shook anyway. He was laughing at him.

Owen’s torso was like…damn. It was the kind of body he was sure only male models grown in labs in Sweden just  _got_. Owen had to be doing something, or there was no god. He had a four-pack and defined hipbones and pectorals that weren’t bulging man-tits. Even with his face making him look like death warmed over, his body was still…wow. Bam. Ka-pow.

Owen had to sit down in the shower, his boxers still on. In the water, they clung to him obscenely. Axel gulped. “Just…stay here. I’m gonna go out there. Yell when you need dry clothes.” He escaped to freedom before Owen could say a word.

Within the next few minutes, the others returned. Clucking his tongue, Mark took over babying Owen, and it was all too soon that he was dry, dressed, and bundled up on the couch again. At least he’d stopped puking. 

Before going off to his fort for the night, Axel passed by Owen’s couch, staring down at him, for once. It felt good.

“Don’t get used to it, shrimp.” Owen croaked, cracking an eye. Axel grinned, sticking out his tongue.

“Nah, I think I will. From now on, I’m  _always_  gonna be above you. _Always_.” He’d meant it a lot less dirty that it came out.

Owen laughed anyway.


End file.
